


Agridulce

by aguantare



Series: Sin Fronteras [20]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguantare/pseuds/aguantare
Summary: Javier remembers how hard it was, that first year or so after they got here, 14 years old and tossed into one of the biggest high schools in the state.





	Agridulce

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: don't know them, don't own them, don't sue me
> 
> Title means "bittersweet" in Spanish.

Phoenix Central High School has four separate lunch periods, but the cafeteria at lunchtime is still barely organized chaos at best. Javier takes one look at the lines and decides to wait; he's not that hungry anyways, and he also knows he's getting low on lunch money—if he skips today, he should have enough to last until his next paycheck. 

He makes his way across the lunchroom, dodging tray-carrying underclassmen and raising his free hand in greeting to a few friends, his Chemistry quiz from last period still clutched in his other hand. At a table by the windows lining the far wall, Javier spots a familiar figure poring over a paper in his hands, lunch tray untouched in front of him. Javier makes a beeline for the table and the figure, rolling up the quiz in his hands as he does so. When he gets close enough, he slaps at the back of the other boy's head with the rolled-up papers. 

“What the f--” Hector swipes at him instinctively, actually starts to look pissed off before he sees who it is. 

“ _Pendejo_ ,” he mutters as Javier plops down across from him, but he's smirking. 

“What are you obsessing over?” Javier asks, flicking the paper in Hector's hands, “Half a point you missed on a quiz three weeks ago?”

“...No.” 

Javier raises an eyebrow; it's not like Hector to not respond with a jibe of his own. 

“ _Déjame ver_ ,” he orders, setting his own papers down. Hector hesitates, then hands over the paper. The first thing Javier sees is the official school letterhead at the top. He wonders if Hector's in trouble. About three sentences in, though, he realizes it's the exact opposite. 

“Shit man,” he says, glancing up, “You know this is a good thing, right? Like a big fuckin' deal kinda good thing.” Hector's pulling absentmindedly at his lower lip, like he does when he's particularly uncertain. 

“Read the last paragraph,” he clarifies. Javier looks back down. 

“A speech?” he asks, reading from the final section of the letter, “Well yeah, it's kinda traditional that the valedictorian makes a speech at graduation.”

“Yeah, _pero_...”

“¿ _Pero_ …?”

Hector shrugs, sets his elbows on the table. 

“Just, my English, you know,” he says after a couple seconds, clasping his hands together and resting his chin on them.

“Says the guy who got an A+ in English two years in a row,” Javier points out. 

Hector shrugs again, and Javier feels a little guilty for being so flippant about this. He remembers how hard it was, that first year or so after they got here, 14 years old and tossed into one of the biggest high schools in the state. English was like molasses--slow to come to mind, and even slower to come out as actual words. Trying, and failing, to be understood, day after day had been exhausting in a way that sleep couldn't cure. It was a relief to escape to their evening shifts at a restaurant in town, because even though it meant they didn't get home until close to midnight, everyone in the kitchens spoke Spanish. 

After four years, Javier doesn't really have to think much about his English anymore, and he doesn't think Hector does either, but neither of them has had to get up and make a formal public speech in English either. 

“I can help you practice,” he offers, “If you want.”

Hector smiles, relieved and not even trying to hide it, and Javier would usually give him shit for it, but refrains, just this once. 

“Your dad would have been really proud,” he says instead, in Spanish. Hector's smile fades and he turns his eyes toward the window. It's only been six months since that fateful phone call from Mexico, and Javier understands the pain of not being able to go back to say goodbye is still raw. They both knew, the moment their feet crossed that border in the Arizona desert, that their futures would almost certainly include such a call. They just hadn't expected it to be so soon. 

“At least now he'll get to see you graduate,” he adds. Hector nods, still looking out the window. After a few seconds, he turns back and clears his throat. His eyes are bright, but his voice his steady when he asks Javier if he wants to share his lunch. Javier smiles, hopes it's enough to convey that Hector's dad isn't the only one who would have been proud, who is proud, and snatches a fry off the lunch tray between them.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _pendejo_ : (approx.) asshole  
>  _déjame ver_ : let me see  
>  _pero_ : but


End file.
